


Start Again

by TORUKAisJUSTICE



Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [6]
Category: ONE OK ROCK
Genre: Character Death, F/M, M/M, Miscarriage, Overprotective, Teen Pregnancy, heed the tags, shitty time line and story telling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-23
Updated: 2020-02-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22858279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TORUKAisJUSTICE/pseuds/TORUKAisJUSTICE
Summary: Toru can feel his heart beating, thudding madly against his ribcage, perhaps trying to kill him? Trying to punish him for all the mistakes he had done to her in the past?There was this crushing guilt—so bitter and so potent that he had immediately stopped working, stopped thinking and just…started packing—running and yearning to go back to the town whereeverything began—And where, for him—for Yamashita Toru—everythinghad all ended three years ago.
Relationships: Morita Takahiro/Yamashita Toru
Series: The Art of Not Finishing Shits [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1070292
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Start Again

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the tags and please ignore the typos. I own nothing.

* * *

PROLOGUE

* * *

The weather is bleak, the soft rays of the sun streaming through the still blooming foliage of the gingko trees lining the curbside where Toru usually pass on his way to work. It’s early March and most of the trees are still yet to bloom for the spring season. The winter chill still creeping into their bones, making almost everyone clutch their coats and sweaters close whenever a particularly cold breeze swept by the small town.

He never really imagined himself to be going back in this place but this is home town after all. He thought that he could do well in Tokyo—studying in a university and getting a good, stable job—which he did, mind you—but Tokyo was just—

Too _cramped_.

Too _bright_.

Too _noisy_.

Too _crowded_.

Whenever Toru goes into the train for work—everyday of every week—he never fails to feel like there’s this huge, imaginary hand trying to strangle and slap him all at the same time. It was weird. It was tiring—work, sleep, drink out with friends, looking at old photographs he had kept in his wallet—that was his routine for almost two years— _six, if you’ll add the years he spent in university_.

He was tired.

He had _burnt_ out.

The once shining, yearning and burning passion within him on the first time he had thought of seeing, of experiencing Tokyo had wilted down, simmered to a barely flickering light—

And then, when he was at his worst, the universe had just decided to make it…even worse.

_You know, like, hey, Toru’s already down, why don’t we just drop this ginormous boulder to make sure we’ll finally crush him down, eh?_

Toru smiled bitterly, pulling his dark grey scarf up to cover most of his face. It’s still early but he really likes walking towards the small town high school where he works as a teacher. The view is nice, the people were not always scurrying over—you’ll even receive a small smile, if you’re lucky; blushing faces and excited murmurs if you encountered middle-school girls—the entire atmosphere was calm and laid back.

His sister—the one he didn’t, the one he refused to see for almost three years—died from an illness.

His breath hitched, his feet unconsciously hastening their steps towards the now familiar uphill that will take him to the school compound.

It was the last straw—the nail to his coffin.

Upon learning about her death, he was instantly crushed with a maelstrom of emotions—loss, disbelief, grief, anger, misery, longing, and above all— _guilt_.

Toru can feel his heart beating, thudding madly against his ribcage, perhaps trying to kill him? Trying to punish him for all the mistakes he had done to her in the past?

There was this crushing guilt—so bitter and so potent that he had immediately stopped working, stopped thinking and just…started packing—running and yearning to go back to the town where everything began—

And where, for him—for Yamashita Toru—everything had all ended three years ago.

* * *

ONE

* * *

* * *

“Are you sure you don’t wanna hang out with us later, Yamashita-sensei?”

Toru politely smiled at the elder teacher who’s hovering beside his table. The faculty of the school is friendly, welcoming—albeit a bit too much for his liking. _Which is not weird, considering that I’m from Tokyo where everyone’s practically a stranger to every other one._ This teachers have been asking him to go and “hang out” for days now, he had tried once—only to discover that everyone could handle their alcohol really well—I mean they go to work the next day smiling like they’ve radiating sunshine while Toru looks like a fucking zombie because of drinking until three in the morning with this…geezers…

_“Oh, Yamashita-kun—,” wait, what happened to Yamashita-sensei?!—, “You’re still young but when you get around 30’s, you’ll definitely be a pro like us—,”_

Toru couldn’t remember much of that conversation. He probably blacked out or he probably ran to the nearest toilet—he’s not so sure. But hey, they’re already on their god-knows-how-many bottles of alcohol, so he’s allowed to have some…vague and blurry memory.

Which is the same reason why he’s so sure that he don’t wanna hang out with these…pro’s anymore.

“Hai,” he nodded, making an act of shuffling his papers into his binder folder, “I’ve got lots of paper to see—,” Liar, the quizzes are still next week, “and I still have to go visit my parents—,”

Another lie. You really don’t want to see them anymore after everything that had happened.

“—so maybe next time, Sensei?” Toru finished, widening his smile and flashing his perfect white teeth which he knew that would never failed him in tight situations like this. And true to his thoughts, the woman just barely caught herself—or else, she’s gonna fall well, maybe on Toru’s lap or something—, “I’ll definitely come with everyone down town.”

The lady smiled, eyelashes flattering and laughing a bit too loudly for his taste but thank gods, she finally let him off, but not without a pat on his shoulder. _Damn._ Toru sighed and pushed all of his things into his bag, wondering when did he started lying so much, wondering when did he started smiling a fake one so much that his face hurts like fuck afterwards.

* * *

“I wanna go to Tokyo too, Toru-nii,” she always tell him whenever she sees him taking a break from studying. They’re always like this, spending time on the engawa, allowing the summer breeze to enter their old house. Toru would always be playing the guitar, strumming songs he had heard over the radio while his younger sister would watch him with stars in her eyes.

She _had_ always loved music.

But she can’t play any instruments, can’t sing, can’t do but admire people who are able to do it.

That’s why she had always loved watching his brother play the guitar, always loved listening to the soft strums of the strings in the summer afternoons.

“We can go to many live houses,” she said while lying on the wooden planks, her hair splayed onto the old floor, her skinny arm raised and seemingly trying to reach the glass wind chime hanging over the eaves of the engawa, “I’ve heard that they have a lot of live houses over there, and there’s a lot of indie band to see!”

Toru smiled, looking down at his guitar.

“I’m not going to Tokyo to wander around and look for live houses, you know?”

A huff, “I do! But we can just save enough money and we can rent a small unit and we study at day and work at night and watch some bands during our day off!” she rolled over, plopping her chin over her hands as she looked up at him, “Wouldn’t that be great? We could be together forever and listen to good music as much as we want!”

Toru hummed, not really paying any mind to those words. They’re still young; he’s still in high school and his sister, even younger, still views of the world with those idealistic eyes of her. He absent-mindedly nodded, looking far beyond the stacked moldy stones serving as their fence.

It was nice to be young, when everything had been so simple and good.

Since when…when did actually started to changed..?

* * *

“Ah! Ball! Ball!”

Toru snapped out of his thoughts at that shrilly, somewhat frustrated scream behind him. But even before he could actually look back at the source, he saw a soccer ball rolling down the road. Oh, he must be running after it!

Without thinking at all, Toru run after the ball, stopping it just a moment before it completely rolls towards the main road at the bottom of the hill. Saved!

He bent down to pick it up, only to feel something—or _someone_ —bumped onto the back of his legs.

“Oof—!”

“What the fu—!”

He had almost let go of the ball, panicking for a moment—which should he hold, the goddamned ball or the small boy—he’s a boy, right?!—that had just collided on his back. Dammit! In panic, he just…grabbed the collar of the boy’s shirt, preventing him from toppling onto his butt while stepping onto the ball.

“Got you!”

“Uwaah!” the boy said, gripping his sleeves, looking up at him with wild, teary almond-shaped eyes that made Toru’s breath hitched in pain. Those eyes looked so familiar—they’re like—this boy looks _horrifyingly_ like—

Like—

“ _Takahiro_?!” he asked, voice rising for a moment. He was dumb, for sure, there’s no way that this kid is—

The boy in question flinched at the sound of his deep voice, chubby fingers tightening their hold onto his suit. He looks like he’s about to run—but he can’t since Toru’s still clutching his collar—and his tiny lips are trembling like he’s about to—to—

“Oh, no, no—don’t—,”

Round eyes instantly watered up, and the next thing Toru knows is that the kid is wailing and screaming like fuck—

“Holy shi—,”

“Hiro?!”

_What now?!_

Toru’s head snapped towards the direction of another scream, his hands busy catching the flailing, screaming boy, his foot planted onto the probably now-flattened ball, his mind wanting to explode even more when he saw the man running towards them—

Wild curly hair bouncing, faded old scarf billowing from his shoulders, his hands filled with grocery bags and a small back pack—and his face—those red-streaked face and almond-shaped eyes—

_Oh right. Now, I remember…_

_Oh shit. What is he—_

The man wheezed, as he finally reached their spot, bending over to put his bags down onto the road so that, I don’t know, he could properly glare at Toru.

_I remember why it had—why everything had changed back then._

Jacket-covered arms snatched the toddler from Toru’s clutch, easily embracing the still-screaming/crying kid as he looked up at him with so much contempt—and fortunately, no signs of recognizing Toru—, “What are you doing to my son?!”

_S-son?!_

* * *

Toru groaned loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose, hoping that it would stop the forthcoming migraine. He’s finally back in his apartment—no, he refused to live with his parents once more. He’s not a kid anymore and he had saved more than enough in Tokyo so he could survive for another couple of years living on his own—he’s finally within the confines and safety of his home and yet his mind is still running a hundred miles ahead, gears turning and churning out questions after questions because of that encounter.

_What happened?_

Son? Had Takahiro remarried already?

Or…maybe, that kid— _Hiro, he called the kid Hiro_ —is his…his…

* * *

“Toru-nii, meet Mori-chan!” his sister brightly introduced the skinny teen whose hands were shoved into the pockets of his uniform. Toru is already studying in Tokyo, and was only here for some break—for his sister’s birthday, but he won’t admit that to everyone because he’s a giant tsundere—, “He’s an awesome vocalist of a local band! You should try listening to their gigs while you’re still in town!”

Toru doesn’t have the time to hang out down town anymore, but he can’t say that aloud in front of his sister, and besides, he’s busy glaring down at the boy. He looks scrawny as fuck, small too. His ears were pierced, his dark haired slicked back revealing his almond-shaped eyes that are bravely glaring back up at him.

He looks like trouble for his pure, sweet sister.

“Vocalist, huh?” he drawled, crossing his arms and earning a pout from his sister, “Where did you meet? And you’re still what? In middle school?” he asked, regarding the boy with a small tip of his head.

The black-haired boy scowled, his brows furrowed while his face is totally radiating with anger, “I’m not a middle-schooler, for your goddamned information!” he loudly said, “I’m in the same grade as your sister, if you we’re just listening to her novel-long introductions earlier, you dead-faced zombie!”

_What_.

“Dead-faced—,”

“Pffft!”

Toru shot his sister a glare of betrayal when she suddenly burst out laughing. He didn’t raise his sister like that, nor he expected her to hang out with punk kids with a sewer-like mouth.

“You watch your words here, kid,” Toru loomed over, looking down at Mori-chan with so much disdain, “My sister could probably tolerate your shitty words—,”

“You’re the one saying shitty words!”

“—but I expect you to behave whenever to step into our house,” he said, voice dead with finality. He can even hear his sister gulp somewhere beside her. “And don’t think you can do anything with her, coz I’ll always be watching—,”

“But you’re already living in Tokyo, Toru-nii—,”

“—and listening, mou shut up, Kimiko,” Toru said, making his sister giggle before glaring back at the punk who’s sticking his tongue out at Toru, “so you’d better behave around her, you understand?”

The boy rolled his eyes in exasperation, as if Toru’s a nagging geezer, perhaps he is—he’s five years older than these two—before nodding, “Hai, _boss_.”

“What.”

“Well, that goes alright!” his sister stepped in, hooking her arms with the boy’s elbow, “We’ll be off for now, Toru-nii, they have a performance in a really small—,”

“And shitty,” Mori-chan supplied.

“—live house tonight so I’ll be watching them, ne?”

What the heck? Toru’s mouth almost plopped open at that. Where did his overly-attached sister had gone to? He was just gone for almost a year, and she’s already hanging out somewhere in a shady part of the town? Does their shitty town even have a live house?!

_What’s happening?! Is it because she’s in high-school now?!_

“Kimiko—,” but even before he could stop her, the two teenagers were already out, laughing under the dusky sky, “Be home at eight!”

“I’ll be back at nine!”

Toru sighed, combing back his now-longer hair as he stared at the two until they’re out of his sight. Teenagers’ nowadays, mou…

* * *

He hadn’t changed at all.

Toru blearily opened his eyes as he struggled to get up from his spot on the floor. He padded towards his sofa, one of the stuff he had shipped from Tokyo when he moved back. It was not cheap, but he wants to have a sense of familiarity, a sense of home in the suddenly foreign town he’s lived through his childhood. It was weird, seeing familiar faces, looking for places that don’t exist anymore. The park, the Shinto shrine, the market place—even the once empty yard near their house has changed—but he—but that person—

_He hadn’t changed at all_.

Sure, his hair grew longer and messier as if he never knew about combs, his ears were no longer pierced and the baby fats on his cheeks were gone, his eyes, his nose, his lips and his presence remain the same. The little fucker is still glaring up at him, despite the age difference, despite the height difference—Moriuchi Takahiro is still glancing up at him with disdain and obvious anger.

* * *

“S-son…?” Toru stammered, the foot holding onto the ball planted itself on the road to ground himself. Never mind that it’ll roll towards the road, never mind that his effort would go for nothing—because at that moment—nothing is more important than the questions plaguing his mind. “He’s your son…?”

But how old is he? Five years, Toru is older than five years so he’s probably what—21 years old by now? Too young— _but he’s also too young, much younger, back then when they_ —when everything happened—

He can feel his throat closing up with the thoughts, with the memories, with the pain and guilt—how can he be so naïve to think that he won’t be seeing this boy—no, this man—anywhere in this town? He had lived around here, when Toru was chasing his dreams somewhere else.

Takahiro looked up at him, anger shining in his eyes as his hands busied themselves with patting the crying child on his arms. The kid was still crying, but it was more subdued by now, his little fingers clutching the fabric of the curly-haired man’s scarf, sniffling and burying his red face onto the cloth in seeking comfort.

Toru’s heart clenched at that sight. That familiarity, that intimacy and this overzealous protectiveness— _he must be really Takahiro’s son. So…that means—_

“Hiroki is my son,” Takahiro said in a perfectly even voice, his eyes glaring at him warily, “What is it to you, stranger-san?”

Oh.

_Stranger-san?_

“No, no, can’t you remember me?” Toru has no idea why he sounded so frantic. He just—he just wants this, want a piece of his past back, even if it pains him, he wants to—wants to what…? “I came back from Tokyo just a few months ago! You can’t have _forgotten_ me, can you?” he awkwardly smiled, palms up, like offering peace or someshit.

Takahiro arched a brow, not really looking like he recognized Toru at all.

“You certainly look like a city boy, but I’m afraid I don’t know you—or maybe you’re a creep trying to kidnap my kid, I swear we don’t have enough money to pay the ransom—,”

“No, no, silly, I—,” Toru combed the stray tresses back from his face. He stopped, looking at the golden strands. That’s right, Takahiro probably can’t recognize him because of his hair—which is absolute bullshit, I tell you—, “I just colored my hair blonde!” he said, his face splitting with a forced grin, to appear more friendly but probably gave an opposite effect because the man subtly inched backwards, his embrace to Hiroki tightening, “I’m Toru! _Yamashita Toru_!”

Takahiro’s eyes zeroed onto his face, his lips falling open, as he looked at him from head to toe. Toru inwardly celebrated, his name definitely rang a bell and—

And then Takahiro’s face paled like ice.

“—I’m Kimiko’s brother—,” and even before Toru could finish his sentence, Takahiro had already grabbed all of his shopping bags, while lifting his son all the same time before running past the shell-shocked Toru, “W-wait, where are you—Taka— _Takahiro_?!”

* * *

He looked like he had seen a ghost.

Toru stared at his ghostly reflection on the glass wall of a particular shop. It was a cold Sunday morning, two days since that fateful encounter and he still couldn’t find the answers to his questions. He still can’t find Takahiro, not that he’s really putting any effort to do so.

_What do you expect? That he’ll just show himself in front of you when it’s obvious that he really, really doesn’t want to see you at all?_

This is not like in the movies. But why did he even run away like that? Is it because he recognizes me or he still thinks that I’m out there to kidnap his son?

_And speaking of that son…_

The kid’s probably around three years old, and if Toru calculated it right, he’s born just before he permanently live in Tokyo…? Ah all this thinking makes my head hurts! He needs a break, not a gigantic puzzle to solve right now!

_He needs—_

Toru’s eyes widened for a fraction when he saw the man of his thoughts passing behind him through the reflection on the glass.

“Takahiro—,” he said, glancing back and spooking out the walking man. Said man looked at him with a horrified face and was about to run the fuck away but Toru’s not having any of that today—, “Wait!”

“Fuck!” Takahiro flinched when Toru grabbed his arm, not really wanting to let go. He feels thin, under those thick, worn-out sweater sleeves, “Let go!” he growled and Toru almost give in because how can’t he, when Taka is looking up at him with terrified, spiteful eyes— _so hurt, so scared, so tired_ —

What happened?

What happened to _you_?

What happened to _her_?

What happened to the both of you?

But Toru has a shit-ton of questions and this man—this trembling man is the only one who has the answers so he didn’t. He gripped him tighter, not caring for the bruising force of his hand. Taka growled, looking like he’s gonna claw his face to get away but he won’t allow it.

_Give it back,_ his mind said. _Give a piece of her back to me, you brat!_

“Let’s talk,” he said, with the most solemn face he could muster, making Takahiro stopped his aggressive struggling. He looks at him warily, suspiciously, “I just wanna talk—,”

“You won’t hurt me…?” came the soft voice, and the memories of that day came flooding through Toru’s mind. It was like a punch in the gut, except that the fist made it through his stomach, through his insides, twisted and wreaking havoc and all he can feel is pain as he recalled, dumbly late as usual, the reason why Takahiro is so scared at him. Punches, he can remember punches—screaming, yelling and blood—a lot of blood—

“Not his fault—,”

“You son of a bitch—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry—,”

“Get away from me, get away from my sister you sick—,”

“No, no!” she was screaming, she was crying, “You can’t do that, I’m coming with him, I’m coming with him if you—,”

“Then get out,” Toru snarled, his vision red, his eyes blind to the crimson liquid staining Takahiro’s uniform, “Get the fuck out, both of you!”

* * *

Toru inhaled—he felt like he’s drowning but he’s still here—and Takahiro is still here, looking up at him with confusion etched on his pale face. “N-no,” he croaked out, still gripping the man’s arm, “I’m not…gonna do anything to you…I just…” he sighed in frustration and swallowed, “I just want to talk, alright?” he pleaded.

Takahiro’s not looking at him anymore. His eyes were inspecting the dust on the curb side, as if that’s the most interesting thing in the world, as if it’s more important that Toru having his mind fucked at the moment.

“Hiroki’s waiting for me…” he said, and Toru, being the fool he is, just realized that there’s no toddler waddling behind the man. Instead, Taka was holding a small paper bag bearing a local bakeshop’s name. Probably their breakfast, then.

“It’s just a few minutes—,”

“He’s just turned three,” Takahiro snapped, trying to regain his arm back once more, “I can’t really leave him for so long without supervision—,”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Toru blurted out without thinking at all. Taka looks like he’s ready to throttle Toru or snap his neck into two just by saying those words, so he thought that maybe he should amend that, “just for a few minutes then I’ll go. I promise.”

“But didn’t you also promised to her back then?” came the sharp reply. What. Toru was stunned for a moment, at loss for words. What could he say? He’s right, there are a million of promises he shattered that night—but what can he do now? She’s gone—but Takahiro—and that boy, Hiroki is still here—so that’s the most important thing, I guess? “Whatever. Let me go.”

“No! Please,” Toru reasoned out, they’re starting to gather attention by now, “Please, just for a moment…I just…just wanna ask some questions—,”

“And what makes you think that you can just come back and barge into my house like that?”

_What makes you think that you can escape and come back after everything that had happened?_

The familiar flood wave of guilt surges up in Toru once more, he’s right—always right—but if he wavers now, who knows when he’ll get the next chance? Or will he ever have another chance at all?

_Man up, you sad fuck._

“I won’t…I just…we can talk into your hallway,” he gulped in nervousness, god why does his eyes look at me like that, “You don’t have to let me in, just…just let me talk with you? We can even talk somewhere else—,”

“Are you fucking deaf, I just said that Hiro is waiting for me—,”

“So I’ll go with you, please!” Toru was an inch from bowing his head down, “Please just a few moments, Takahiro.”

There was a loud sigh, like he’s an annoying shit but then Takahiro gave in.

“Fine, just let go of my hand and follow me,” he said, and Toru, signed in relief before doing so. He’s kinda glad that Taka finally yielded, well, for a few seconds before the little shit decided to sprint the fuck away.

“W-wait, Taka—fuck, get back here, you—!”

* * *

“ _You little shit_!” Toru looked up from his guitar when a shadow fall onto his form, only to see the bored face of Mori-chan. He was practicing his guitar skills, rusty with the lack of use in his boarding house in Tokyo when the brat intruded and decided to annoy him in the engawa, “How did you even get into our lot? My parents would kill you if they see you trespassing like that!”

Mori-chan— _wait, why am I even referring to him with that cutesy nickname Kimiko was using_ —scoffed before plopping beside him.

“They’re always not here remember,” he said, casually fanning himself with his hand, “Like you. No wonder Kimi’s always so sad and alone.”

“Kimiko’s not sad,” he defended, pushing the guitar away and cracking his fingers, “Besides, our parents come home at night, everyday so he’s not really alone—,” he stopped, realizing that the kid was giving him one of his odd looks again. Toru gulped, feeling like he’s being judged by those dark, almond-shaped eyes. He’s so young but he exudes this…I’m better and older than you aura and it pisses the shit out of Toru everydamntime.

“You’re really thinking that being in this house means that they’re always here _for_ Kimiko, huh? That’s why you’re fine being away with her as well…” he vaguely said, and before Toru could even ask him to explain, the boy is already plucking the guitar from his hands and started playing it with his still god-awful skills.

* * *

“Fuck you!” Takahiro growled, trying to shake off Toru’s hand from his shoulder, “Let the fuck go!”

“Only—,” Toru wheezed, geez, he’s really not supposed to be running at his age anymore, “only if you promised you’re not gonna run off again!”

Takahiro glared at him, “I already told you that I won’t, besides we’re just a few house away from my home so you can ease back now—,”

“No, just,” Toru stared at him with tired, really tired eyes, “Let’s just get into your house or lawn or engawa or something. My knees hurt like fuck and I wanna sit as soon as possible.”

The other man was silent for a moment before resuming his steps, Toru following while holding onto his shoulders like a blind would to his guide. “I think it’s a sign of aging.”

“Oi, oi, I’m not _that_ old.”

“Says the asshole who’s wheezing like he had run the entire of Japan.”

“Do you kiss your son with that dirty mouth of yours?” Toru snapped. Which instantly made Takahiro flinched, the mood sobering at that poor, poor choice of words.

“That’s really none of your concern,” Takahiro coldly said, Toru swallowing in guilt as he decided that he’s a dumb shit for ruining the almost comfortable atmosphere between them just a few seconds ago. He muttered a soft, “ _gomen_ ” before looking around, his brows furrowing at the surrounding. He hadn’t been in this part of the town even when he was younger because well…

Let’s just say that it’s really not a good part of the town. The buildings were dilapidated, most have holes on the walls—the rafters giving in due to the weight of accumulated dirt and the weight of mossy clay tiles. It’s his first time stepping into this place and he already knows that this is not a good place for Takahiro to live—and certainly not a good place to raise a kid like Hiroki.

But he didn’t voiced those thoughts out because god knows what Taka would do if he does. Toss him in a ditch and leave him to die, maybe. And Toru doesn’t really want to die before he gets his answers so he must remain silent.

After a hundred or more steps, they finally stopped in front of a very old wooden building. It was two story, the rails on the corridor upstairs were battered and rusting. And there’s also a lady with heavy makeup knocking like shit on one of the three doors over there.

“Oh shit!” Takahiro groaned before taking off, speeding through the creaking steel stairs. Toru, not really knowing what to do, just followed him albeit in a slower pace. Didn’t he get tired with all the running we did earlier? _How can he climb the stairs like it’s nothing?!_

He was leaning on the dusty walls—he refused to hold onto the guard rails because it might just… _topple_ over or something—when he got on the upper floor. He can hear a heated argument between the two, with Taka’s voice a bit shushed.

“—promise, next week!”

“But you’re already two weeks late!” the lady, on the other hand, didn’t find it necessary to lower her voice down, “I’m not running an orphanage, this is a business!”

“I know—but my salary is a bit delayed—,”

“I saw you buying a lot of grocery the other day—,”

“All of them are for Hiroki—,”

“And it’s my fault all of your money goes to your kid?!” Toru’s ears perked up at that. He hastened his steps, wanting to hear more of this argument. Is this about the rent? Is Taka not able to pay their monthly dues? Is Toru thinking of just pulling out his wallet to help him, regardless of their past, regardless of the fact that Taka might just chucked him off the second floor along with the rusty guard rails?!

“Kids these days think that it’s alright to get kids and all the adult stuffs but can’t even afford to do their responsibilities!” she fumed, making Taka’s shoulders slumped in defeat.

“I know, I know, but please just a bit more—,”

“One more day, Moriuchi and then you’re out—,” the lady’s red lips opened wide when she saw Toru standing (and slightly) panting behind Takahiro. She tilted her head, eyelashes fluttering for the now-familiar signs of flirting, “and who’s this young man with you?”

Toru wanted to grin and say something like, _see, I’m still not that old_ , but Takahiro was giving him murderous looks as if saying, _“get the fuck away, you idiot,”_

“A guest,” Taka shrugged, before taking out his keys, “And don’t look at him like that, he might just look like that but he’s just as poor as me,” he said as he unlocked the door. Toru was a bit shocked, but smiled nonetheless at the lady who’s eyeing him from head to toe. He feels _violated_ but he kept the tight smile.

“Well, I can accept installments for payment,” the lady leaned on the wall, crossing her arms over her chest to, _I don’t know, emphasize his boobs or something_? Toru was starting to get bothered, and not in a good, arousing sense.

“Installments for what?”

“Oh, such _innocence_ —,”

“The _fuck_ are you still doing there?!” Taka screeched, probably just noticing that instead of following him inside the unit, Toru decided to remain on the hallways, “Do you want a _written invitation_ or something?!”

“No, but I thought—,”

_I thought I’m not allowed to enter—_

“No buts or else, your pathetic virginity would be taken!” Taka said, grabbing his arm and dragging him inside the unit. Toru could hear the frustrated girly noises before it was cut off with the loud crash of the door. It was so flung back so hard that dusts actually came off the ceiling.

_Well…_

His eyes instantly roamed around, not wasting any time. The unit was so small, just a 1LDK unit, a raised tatami area with a small square low table, two futon laid near the sliding door that probably leads to the balcony. There’s a big dresser against the wall, a small TV, a familiar guitar case, a low bookshelf near the partition between the tatami area and the kitchen. It was small, can only fit a person at a time, and has a door at the end—which Toru decides to be for the toilet and bath. It was a very compact unit, very cluttered too, but…

But it’s warm.

_It’s homey._

And…and…

Toru’s heavily-lidded eyes landed on the picture frame miraculously still hanging on the barren wall. The expanse of the old wall was bare, except for that—except for the photo of his sister—she was smiling at the camera, her hair fluttering around, and eyes shiny—

She’s so young, so happy, so _alive_ —

He felt his throat tighten at that, his hands clenching into fists. Suddenly he doesn’t feel like he had any right to enter this sanctuary at all. He feels like intruding, he feels like he’s violating the place, the memory of his sister just by stepping into this unit.

This is _where_ she had lived after that day.

This is _where_ she had built her family.

This is _where_ she had spent her last days—

He swallowed—hard—the painful lump making it hard to breathe. It was small, and it’s starting to suffocate him. He was still in denial—he realized—because for real, he had thought that it was okay, that he had finally accepted her death but look at him shaking like a leaf, just by the mere sight of her photo.

“Well,” he was pulled out of his thoughts when Taka awkwardly scratched the back of his head and gestured on the mess that is his home, “Welcome to our abode, I guess?” his eyes then steeled into the cold ones, “You have 30 minutes to stay and then you’re out. Forever, is that alright?”

Toru wanted to shake his head, wanted to say that, No, how can he just walk away and leave them like this, leave her memories like this, but that was asking for too much. He promised a short period of time and he should be grateful for that at all. So he just nodded, watching as the tension eased away from Taka’s hunched shoulder.

“Alright,” he sighed, “you may sit here,” he gestured on the clear spot near the low table, “I’ll prepare some tea.”

Toru, once again, wordlessly nodded and muttered a soft, “ _ojamashimasu_ ,” before pulling off his shoes and sitting on his designated place. The unit sure is small but it’s just a signed that someone’s living in here, right? His eyes wandered off again, lingering at the photo frame once more, before landing on futon at the far corner of the unit. The one’s a mess, while the other has a lump under the thick blanket.

_Hiroki is still probably sleeping, huh—_

Big almond shaped eyes stared back at him. Toru straightened up, not really knowing what to do. The kid’s already awake and he’s now watching him like a judgmental hawk.

_S-should I say hi…?_

_B-but I’m not even sure if he’s really—_

_I mean…that night_ —the fight was stopped because Takahiro was bloodied, and because Kimiko was saying he’ll go away with the brat right…?

But…Toru frowned, why does he can recall another scene, where everyone was staring at his sister’s legs, watching in horror as thick, red liquid streamed down her legs—

“It’s rude to stare at people like that, Hiroki,” he blinked, when Taka finally said something. The lump on the futon wiggled, the blankets falling down to hide the child’s big eyes, “I’m back, won’t you even greet me at all?”

There was a short pause, and suddenly, the kid launched itself from the confines of the blanket, throwing it off and running towards Takahiro—his chubby little legs almost tangling with each other before he collided with Taka’s legs. The kid, bright eyes and smiles looked up at his father and muttered a very childish, very energetic, “W-wel’ome ‘ome, ‘tou-chan!!!”

Toru couldn’t take his gaze away, couldn’t move, couldn’t even breathe in fear that he might just break that scene. His heart aches, his guilt rising and tasting bitter at the back of his mouth as he watched as Takahiro beamed down, patting and ruffling the kid’s hair to a mess.

She should be here.

She should’ve seen this— _if I—If we didn’t just—_

“Ta-dai-ma,” Taka slowly said before lifting the kid, hoisting Hiroki on his hips as he bring over a tray of two mugs of steaming tea, a glass of milk and a plate full of pastries. Toru stood up, wanting to help but the man just glared at him so he just remained on his spot, wincing, before trying to smile for Hiroki—who just hid his face onto the crook of his father’s neck. “He’s just shy among strangers,” Takahiro said as he put the tray down and slowly sit across him, plopping the tiny being on his lap, “especially with people who talks loudly, like oldies, our landlady, and—,” he shrugged and Toru knows the answer.

“…like me the other day near the school,” he slumped down, “I will take it in mind whenever he’s around—,”

“And what makes you think that there’s a _next_ time?” Takahiro casually fired back, pulling the plate filled with different bread near his son, “Look, Hiro, these are from your favorite store. You like ‘em right?”

Hiroki slowly, ever-so slowly pulled away from his shoulder, giving Toru a wary glance before looking at the sets of still hot pastries. He slowly nodded, “Hiro _woves_ ‘em,” he said, making grabby hands, as if willing the bread to fly onto his chubby fingers.

“Then Hiro must eat them while they’re still hot, ne?” Taka nodded, picking a small one and passing it to his son, “Just blow it so it won’t burn your tongue, alright?”

Hiroki nodded, making adorable face as he blew the steam off and started nibbling on the bread. Soon enough, pure sounds of joy and satisfaction pours out of his mouth and Toru was so tempted to just pull out his phone and immortalize that scene in a photo.

But Takahiro _definitely_ won’t like that.

In fact, the said man is looking at him, **obviously** showing his dislike with Toru’s presence in his house.

“I know you have a _shi_ —,” he stopped, rolling his eyes, before continuing, “a lot of questions, but let’s start with you. It’s been a really, really long time, Toru-san,” he said, earning a surprised look from his kid, “What brings you back in this town?”

“Tou-chan?” Hiroki piped in, making Taka looked down at him with an amused smile, “No, Hiro. It’s Toru-san, not tou-chan. To-ru.”

“ _To-wu-chan_?” his brows knitted in confusion, cheeks puffing out in distress before he shrugged, “To-wu,” and get back to his bread.

_Adorable fuck!_

“Yes, he’s Toru-san,” he nodded before looking at him, a brow arched, “Well? Time is running.”

“I’m,” he suddenly started, not really knowing what to say. He was expecting answers, not questions, _but it’s probably equivalent exchange, right_? “I’m staying here, for good,” he finally said, earning a suspicious look from the man across him, “I left my job in Tokyo and started a new one as a teacher in the local high school—,”

“The one where we saw you two days ago,” Takahiro nodded, pulling out a handkerchief out of thin air to wipe the crumbs and cream off Hiroki’s cheeks, “But why _now_? Why the sudden decision to come back and settle down?”

Toru slumped down. He wants to take the mug and hold it, just to give his hands to have something to hold on to, something to get busied with, something to ground him. Takahiro was attacking him with those eyes, silently blaming him for everything, making the bile in his throat rise once more.

“The life in Tokyo…” he started again, “was not fulfilling anymore…it was tiring, and the routine is killing me so I was already thinking of going back and starting a new life…and then…”

And then it happened.

And then Kimiko died. Or at least, the news of her death finally reached Toru.

“And we’re all thinking that you’re having it nice over there, over the city,” Taka said, giving the glass of milk to Hiroki. He supported the glass, allowing the kid to take small mouthfuls or lest, he’ll choke himself to death with those small mouth and throat. “She…she _had_ always said that you know?”

Toru wanted to close his eyes at the mention of his sister. This is it, he thought, he’ll finally learn more about his sister’s life—the life he had ruined, the life he had ignored, the life that was suddenly gone in an instant—

And Toru didn’t— _never did a thing_ —about it.

“We shouldn’t let him know, she always tell me,” Taka said in a softer voice, “She doesn’t want to bother you, doesn’t want to burden her brother who’s living their dream life in Tokyo even when Hiroki was born, even if she’s hurting, even if I know that she’s missing you every single day—until his very last breath, she was calling for you—,”

Toru’s eyes prickled with unshed tears. He can’t breathe, _why is it suddenly so hard to breathe_? His vision gets blurry as images of his sister flooded his mind. The dreams, the youthful hopes, the time they’ve spent together and more—

“She was asking for forgiveness, I _never_ understood why,” he’s not looking at him, just gazing down at his son, “Was she regretting the life we chose? Was she regretting the days we spent together? Is that why she’s asking for your forgiveness, because at long last, she realized that she chose hell instead of her dreams? That he chose me, instead of living a good life with his brother in Tokyo?”

_No…_

Toru’s stomach churn in pain at that. Why does…why does Taka looks so _small_ , sounds so _defeated_ when a few moments ago, he was yelling, was smiling at his kid, was outrunning Toru blocks after blocks?

_What is this display of—_

“And after her death, I’ve always asked myself—was it my fault? If I didn’t came along, if I didn’t just asked her out,” Toru’s eyes landed on Hiroki. Taka wasn’t looking at his kid anymore, his eyes were blank, glassy and looks so lost that he failed to realize that his son is looking up at him in confusion and worry— _I don’t like where his thoughts are going—_

_If you think about those things, then isn’t it the same as regretting Hiroki’s existence? Your own kid—_

“…if I didn’t just asked her to come with me in that party back then—then—,”

“No!” Toru surged forward, shaking the table and earning a shocked squeak from the terrified kid. Hiroki instantly latched onto his father again, his shoulders trembling in fear, “No, don’t—don’t blame yourself like that—it’s not—,” he sighed, looking away from the piercing stares Takahiro is throwing at him. He sighed wearily, slumping down and running his fingers through his blonde tresses in frustration. “I… I think my sister— _Kimiko_ …I think she’s been happy in here,” he gestured around, “I think she’s happy with her life, I mean she has a cute little kid and…and you,” he begrudgingly added, “…so it’s not really your fault…actually, it was…it was all mine…” he shakily added, planting his face onto his palms.

“That night—I was so closed-minded, was so blinded in fury that I fail to think of the bigger picture—,”

“And you punched me,” Taka added. Toru groaned behind his palms. “I did, yes. I really need to apologize for that—,”

“I’ll accept your apology for that,” Takahiro said, a bit too coldly and nonchalant for Toru’s expectations. He had expected yelling and even a rematch or maybe Taka demanding to land some punches on his face just to get even, “But for _killing_ our first-born?”

Toru’s hands fell over the table, his face turning ashen as he stared at the man with slacked jaws.

_No—no, those memories—_

_Don’t tell me—_

“Even if you bow down on the floor,” Taka said, in an eerily calm manner, and for a moment, he had looked so old for his age—older even than Toru—like he’s carrying the weight of the universe onto his shoulders, “even if you beg or grovel, I won’t. You may be my wife’s brother, but you can’t force me to forgive you about that matter, Toru-san.”

And then, with all the swirling emotions, with all the churning guilt, and grief, and anger at himself, Toru just blacked out.

But the images of blood— _bloody red_ —was so vivid in his mind just before he’s consumed by total darkness.

* * *

“Get the fuck out, both of you!” he was panting, why was he panting? Why is he so angry? What is he so angry about? He couldn’t remember anything at all. He should be in the train station by now, he has exams tomorrow—exams that he can’t miss nor fail because it will affect his grades, his graduation, his career, his entire future.

So why was he still here?

“We will!” the bratty boy said, his forehead and the corner of his eyes bleeding. Strands of curly hair which were usually slicked up and back, falling onto his dusty, bloody face, “We were just merely informing you because hey, you’re still her family even if she’s being left out in this house! But look where that thoughtful shit led to?! My face mangled like shit!”

_Oh, that’s right._

It’s because this boy decided to show up late that afternoon, holding his sister’s hand and declaring that Kimiko’s pregnant and he’s gonna take responsibility.

That made Toru laugh. Take responsibility? But how? He’s just still in high school— _both of them were still in high school for fuck’s sake_ —they should be studying, they should be enjoying their lives, and not doing stuff that they could compromise their future—

_Irresponsible_. That’s what they are—especially this boy—even after all the warning Toru had given him, countless of times, over and over again _—, “don’t do anything with my sister, behave yourself,”—_ over and over again.

Just _because_ of a drunken night?!

Just _because_ of a shitty decision to drink with their friends?!

_How about Kimiko’s future?_ Toru had already prepared her scholarship papers—she’s got good grades, she’s gonna have a good school and they could all do the things they could only dreamt of doing before—studying at day, working at night, going to live houses and listening to music on their day offs—all the things—all the fucking things that _won’t happen_ now just because of a careless night—

_Just because of this person—!_

“I trusted you with her!” Toru growled back, hands still itching to punch that defiant face he grew to hate so much, “I trusted you because you _promised_ me, because she trusted you and yet—what have you done?!”

“I know what I’ve done!” Takahiro shouted back, spitting blood on the ground, “And I’m ready to stand up for my decision!”

“It was not a decision!” he gritted out, “You weren’t thinking when you did it, you weren’t using your _godforsaken_ brain because if you do, you will use protections so don’t fucking ever tell me that it’s your decision!”

Takahiro sniffed, and for a moment, Toru felt guilty—he looks bloodied, yes, but he’s still a kid—a child—

Kimiko aggressively nodded and wiped the tears streaming down her face, “Yeah, maybe, but what can we do about it now, Toru-nii? I thought you’ll understand, I thought you’ll give us some advice or help or I don’t know, maybe _even just a crying shoulder_?! But no! And besides, it’s still our decision to keep the baby, no matter what you say! And we’ll do it, whether you like it or not!” she said before grabbing Takahiro’s arm to drag him out of the property, “Let’s go, Mori-chan!”

“Wait, Kimi—,”

“ _Kimiko_ ,” Taka didn’t budged, his eyes were drawn towards the exposed legs of his sister’s uniform. His eyes growing wide, face going pale in terror, “Kimiko, wait—,”

“No, he wants us out, we will get out of his sight!” she continued, despite his body starting to tremble, still yanking her unmoving lover, “He doesn’t want to waste his time to _trashes_ like us, why would we matter anyway, to someone who’s studying, working and living in Tokyo?!”

Toru’s eyes grew wide as well, mind going blank at the unfolding sight before him. What—what’s happening—Toru reached out, trying to calm his raging sister but his hand was just slapped away—and he doesn’t know what hurts more, the slap itself or the blatant _rejection_ from his sweet, little sister.

“No, don’t touch me!”

“Kimi—,”

“I don’t know you anymore,” she cried, “You’re not the same Toru-nii, _you’re not my brother anymore_ —,”

“Kimiko, stop—! The _baby_!” Takahiro frantically shook his sister’s shoulders, and only by then did Kimiko looked down, horror slowly dawning on her face as he realized what’s happening.

“No..no…no—!”

* * *

Toru couldn’t remember what happened after that—all he can recall was boarding a train to Tokyo with his bags, eyes bloodshot and mind blank with the sudden turn of events.

_“You’re not my brother anymore.”_

That hurts. And the pain is the only thing that Toru could vividly remember out of that night. The pain—replaced by guilt—overwhelmed by guilt as years went by.

“Wakey, wakey!!!”

Toru groaned, not really wanting to open his eyes. His head feels like someone’s using a jackhammer on it, and the futon on his back is so soft and comfy—but there’s hands— _tiny hands?!_ —slapping on his face—wait, what—

“Hiro, don’t slap him!”

“Iz late,” the cheerful voice said, “Towu won’t wakey, then be late!”

“It’s still noon, Hiroki and he doesn’t have any work.”

“Why?”

“Coz it’s Sunday.”

“ _Why_?”

“…why is it Sunday?” came the unsure voice.

“No!,” another slap on Toru’s face, ack!, “Why he no wok on Sunday!”

“I don’t know?!”

Jesus, the conversation makes his headache even worse. _What the heck_. And where the heck is he, by the way? Toru tried to concentrate, despite the childish babblings above him and the volley of slaps and kicks on his face and chest, until he slowly, painfully remembers everything.

His eyes went wide open—

At the same time that the kid’s aiming a piece sign on it—

“Fuck, Hiroki—!”

“Fuck!” Hiroki and Toru yelled in unison, the one in pain as two tiny sausage-like fingers stabbed his eyes, “Fuuuuck!!!”

* * *

“I’m really sorry about that,” Takahiro was taming down the kid’s unruly hair. They’re once again facing each other over the low table, but with Toru holding an ice pack on his eye, and Hiroki not shyly hiding on his father’s neck anymore. He was just…sitting there, blinking and smiling at him, making grabby hands, like he wants to pet him or something. “Hiro doesn’t _usually_ stab…people in their eyes.”

“Yeah,” Toru nodded but fuck that really hurts, “He’s still a kid so it’s okay.”

“See that Hiro?” Taka addressed his son, “You can’t just do that again, okay? Look, Toru-san is hurt. We don’t want to hurt people like Toru-san, right?”

“Wight!”

“Then what would you say if you accidentally hurt them?”

“Fuck?”

Taka and Toru let out a scandalized gasp at that. Where did he learned to speak like that?! Toru accusingly stared at the father, but said father is also glaring at him like he’s _blaming_ him for his son’s foul mouth.

_What?!_

“No, no, that’s a bad word. That’s not what you’re gonna say to someone who’s hurt, Hiroki.”

“Hmpf,” Hiroki crossed his arms and looks like he’s thinking really hard about…stuff, before he looked at Toru with determined, _kinda scary_ , almond-shaped eyes, “I kno! Gomen ne, Towu-chan!”

Oh.

_“Gomen ne, Toru-nii!”_

_Oh…_

Against his will, Toru’s eyes gloss over at that snippet of a memory from a long, long time ago. He…Hiroki actually have Taka’s eyes but his face, and even his pouty expressions, really really resembles his sister’s face when she’s still a toddler.

“That’s a good boy!” Taka clapped loud, pulling Hiroki onto his lap and squishing his chubby cheeks between his palms, as he planted fleeting kisses on the kid’s button nose, “That’s my Hiroki!”

Loud, happy giggles filled the air, and once again, Toru is filled with this feeling of being left out. Will he ever be able to hug his nephew like that—play and spend time with a piece of his beloved sister like how he had supposed to be.

To make up for the lost time.

To make up for the mistakes he did in the past.

To quell this overwhelming guilt wreaking havoc within him?

_But you have no right._

_“You’re not my brother anymore.”_

Little, hurried footsteps pulled Toru out of his pathetic thoughts and before he knew it, a small pair of arms are already embracing his neck, pulling him down in an awkward manner, “Wha—,”

His eyes wildly looked at Taka’s direction, he was just calmly sitting across him, leaning back on his arms, blinking at him and oh did it hit Toru so hard how much Taka had changed through the years. _Gone_ was the brash, haughty and arrogant boy—instead, there is this man, who had lived through his decisions, who had chosen to stand up to his responsibilities, had taken of and loved his sister until his death, and has lived to raise Hiroki all by _himself_ —

“Pain pain go away, no pain fow Towu-chan, ne?” Hiroki was patting Toru’s neck and it’s…it’s not really painful at all, he can barely feel it, honestly, but at that moment—Toru felt _weak_ , Toru felt at _lost_ , Toru felt like he had lost _everything_ —

He was so wrong—he wasn’t using his godforsaken mind back then that cost him her sister—the days and weeks and months and _years_ they could’ve spent as one big happy family, the time Toru _could’ve_ spent on spoiling Kimiko and her two little children, the time that Toru had spent sulking, resenting, regretting and grieving— _he was so wrong_ and instead of straitening it right, he just stood there and wallowed in self-despair.

“I—,” tears spilled down his eyes as his arms engulfed the tiny, tiny body of his nephew, of his sister’s child, and embraced him—not so tight, but not so loose—, “I’m sorry, I’m really, really sorry, I—,”

There was a short pause, Toru sniffling loudly, and then Hiroki is patting his cheek once more, smiling at him with the _smile_ he had known right from his childhood days, “Iz okay, you okay, Towu-chan!”

_“Iz okay! You okay, Toru-nii!”_

And Toru’s heart _swell_ with gratitude once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading once more~!


End file.
